


Shaken

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25122703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request: May I request Reader is suppper angry (hyperventilating,etc) and is about to do something they might regret and Geralt pretty much has to sit on/pin them down to calm them down?
Kudos: 6





	Shaken

The heavy oaken doors flew open, you nearly tearing them off its hinges in a way that impressed even Geralt who stalked after you as quickly as you fled. You were hardly aware of his presence, focused solely on your path to the room. You’d wondered what could make a person decide to kill, how they would feel if they were in a situation where they had to, whether they fought the urge to avoid harming another until the last. You felt no anxiety or dread or even a spark of regret. You felt only a single-minded focus that was hard to put into words, so you didn’t try.

Geralt had seen you angry many times before though he had to admit this was different than usual. Still, he didn’t expect you were a real danger to yourself or anyone else until he saw the way you picked up the sword. No hesitation or fiddling or checking the balance as a pretense while you lost your nerve. You simply picked it up and tucked it into the sheathe on your side and turned back to head out the door. Geralt stopped you with both large hands grasping your shoulder, nearly encompassing them.

“Y/N,” he said. You looked straight ahead into his collar bone, the wolf’s head medallion a perfect picture of the way you felt inside. Ravenous and predatory. Untethered but intentional.

“Y/N,” he repeated, giving you a little shake. Your eyes rose to meet his, gravely serious though he could feel the tremor of rage in your slightly trembling skin.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a gentle tone, goading you to crack and acknowledge the ridiculousness of the idea that you could harm anyone. Your gaze was iron and his stilled to meet you in tone.

“You are not going to do this,” he said, his voice rough and commanding. 

“Are you going to stop me?” you asked. Not a challenge, just a question.

“Don’t be ludicrous, I don’t need to stop you. You know that you won’t,” he replied, slightly aghast and still trying to find a way to reason you out of this anger. He should have known better but in all the time you’d traveled together he’d never seen you this angry before. Then again, never before had you witnessed him barely escape death at the hands of someone who hired him in presumably good faith only to ambush him. You had survived many things and managed to keep your heart soft and open. Nearly losing Geralt had been a taste of something you could never return from and it scared you as much as it galvanized you. You had no words to explain this so you shoved him back and in his momentary shock you were able to break away. It was only a moment before you felt his arms wrap around your waist and pull you back. He handily stripped you of your weapon and you growled in frustration as he pinned you back against the wall, amber eyes peering into yours with concern.

“Look at me,” Geralt ordered. Your chest heaved with unspent anger and fear and more confusing emotions that you couldn’t put words to just yet. Not while he was this close, hips pressed against yours, medallion pressing against your throat, his hands gripping your arms like a cage you never wished to be freed from.

“He isn’t worth it,” Geralt argued, “I’m…”

His words trailed off and his eyes looked askance. Your head tilted up sharply, your expression fierce, this time the pursuer while he carefully avoided your gaze.

“You are,” you insisted, trying to keep your breathing calm though you still choked on the words, “You always were.”

You’d seen Geralt in a myriad of bizarre circumstances but you’d never seen him surprised. When Geralt’s eyes returned to yours they were wide with surprise and yours softened slightly. He felt your body sag slightly as you released some of the tension but his grip didn’t loosen, to your relief.

“If you kill him you’ll miss Jaskier’s lecture,” Geralt said.

“He’d perform for me in jail,” you protested. The shadow of a smile whispered at the corner of his lips and you hungrily sought the words to pull a full, genuine smile onto his face. It was so rare but so beautiful, much like the man himself.

“Not if I told him not to,” Geralt threatened lightly. You gave a look of faux indignation.

“I hardly think so! He likes me better, after all. Due to my… many charms,” you said, giving a single, exaggerated wink. Geralt chuckled, not a full throated laugh but enough that she saw a glimpse of teeth, wolfish canines that suited him too well. The honey soft eyes were a strange contradiction to the rest of him with all of his edges and planes and angles.

“If I release you can I trust that you won’t try to kill anyone?” he asked.

“I can certainly try,” you offered.

“Not good enough,” he argued.

“The best I can do,” you replied with a little shrug. He held your eyes for a beat longer and then gently released you, one hand trailing down the length of your arm and leaning a little closer, nearly brushing against your cheek with his jaw as he reached down and slid his fingers through yours to pry the pommel out of your hand and into his. Your hand clenched against the air as he moved away, colder for the loss of him.

“Come on,” he said, “Let’s work out some of that aggression in a healthier way.”

You laughed, a strange, nervous laughter that you refused to explain, taking the quiver of arrows and bow with a shaking head and an enigmatic rosiness tinging your cheeks.


End file.
